


All In

by moon_moth



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Gen, Loss, Minor Violence, Pre-Canon, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 05:23:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17636744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_moth/pseuds/moon_moth
Summary: How did Quark's cousin Gaila get that scar?





	1. Too Late

**Author's Note:**

> content warnings: ABUSE, brief violence (blood), bad parenting
> 
> This story takes place in the year 2354 (about a year after Nog is born).

There had always been a part of Gaila that had wanted to run. And he'd had opportunities to do so, back in the beginning. But he'd turned them all down; running away from profits like these was for weak-lobed idiots. He'd told himself over and over again that he could handle this, he _should_  be able to handle this, and he had stayed. Now, again, stronger than he'd felt it in years, he felt the urge to run, and perhaps that urge hadn't been as foolish and naive as he'd thought.  
But now it was too late. He was in, and so far he'd only seen one way out. That one way was bearing down on him now, and it wasn't terribly appealing.  
"I had such high expectations for you," came the smooth, aristocratic voice in a dangerous, disappointed tone that iced over Gaila's spine. He froze in place, with his back quite literally up against a wall. "You were doing so well up to now. It's a shame."  
"I took a calculated risk," he said, pleading for his life in all but words. "I did my best."  
"Your best wasn't good enough," said Hagath coldly. Though on the surface, he remained on an even keel, there was a maddening feeling in the air that he was about to lose his temper and lash out at any second. Gaila had felt sure about half a dozen times in the past few minutes that he was just about to, and it still hadn't happened, leaving a horrible knot forming in his stomach as his nerves worsened.  
"I'll never let you down again, I swear," he said.  
In response, Hagath's face became eerily blank, as if he were staring at nothing at all, instead of a petrified Ferengi who, until mere moments ago, had seemingly had his whole life ahead of him.  
"I should say not."  
The part of Gaila's brain that was a man was trying desperately to retain control of the situation, while the part of his brain that was still a scared little animal was one breath away from a piercing shriek. His heart was buzzing in his chest. His throat felt as dry as the dead newt he'd found in a dark corner of a closet as a small child. It had gotten trapped in the house and perished alone; he'd cried for it. His father had yelled at him for getting caught raiding the closet. He remembered being dragged out by the lobe and immediately scolded, and he found himself wishing that Hagath would just fly off the handle already, because this false calm, this quiet waiting, was agonizing.  
"I've made a lot of money for you in the past, haven't I?" he heard himself saying. "I can make you more. Give me a week, and whatever you say I cost you today, I'll make it back twice over."  
When he saw the livid expression on Hagath's face, he was absolutely terrified -- but he was also relieved. Here it came.  
Except it didn't.  
"You think this is about money?" he asked. His voice was so soft. Gaila hated it. And he had no answer. He was afraid to say anything, afraid to stay silent, and acutely aware that he was in actual mortal peril. He had not chosen a forgiving business: any point in his career could well be the end. He'd known this before he even began making a name for himself.  
He gulped.  
"What's it about?" he asked at last, unable to bear the silence a second longer.  
With a look of rage and contempt, Hagath leaned closer.  
"It is about _reputation_ ," he said, with his voice rising just a fraction in volume and intensity. "It is about _my_  reputation, which has been _carefully built_  and _strictly maintained_. What _you_  have done _today_ , in your _audacity_ , is _damage_  that reputation. And _that_ , you can't. Recover. In. A week."  
His voice kept rising as he spoke, and he kept leaning further in, but by the time he was close enough for Gaila to feel his breath breaking across his face, he still hadn't reached the point of shouting.  
"I'll take as long as it needs to recover," he said frantically, cringing with his wrists pressed together and his hands crowded against his chest because he had no room to lift them higher. "I'll do whatever it takes. I know I made a mistake today but if-"  
**_"A mistake?"_** Hagath roared. "Is  **that** what you call it?! You've _hurt_  this operatation. You've hurt _me_. You've left a scar on the face of my business!"  
"I'm sorry, Hagath. That's the last thing I ever wanted to do, believe me. And if you give me an opportunity to prove it, I'll show you that I can do better. I will do better. I'll do more than make up for it: I can be a major asset to you. I can. Please. I promise, if you give me this chance, you'll never regret it. I've learned my lesson."  
Hagath listened, stony-faced, while Gaila begged.  
"Learned your lesson? No. I don't think you have, yet."  
With that, he withdrew. Gaila still didn't move. He watched Hagath cross the room, toward the table, which had been laid with five place settings in anticipation of the dinner which hadn't yet been served and would now be late. He lifted a plate - the one at the seat Gaila would have been expected to take - and hurled it at a wall. Gaila flinched; Hagath stood stock-still as it shattered. It had been expensive.  
Without even a glance in his direction, Hagath strode over to the shards on the floor, picked up a large piece, and started heading back toward him. Gaila shrank in on himself. He was frightened, and confused, and couldn't begin to guess what was coming next. He only figured it out when Hagath lifted the shard of china to his face.  
"Hold still," he ordered, and Gaila did.  
Hagath made a slow, deliberate slice across the bridge of his nose as he stood there, not daring to move except to clamp his stinging eyes shut. It hurt, but he didn't let himself cry out. He kept quiet until it was over, and even then, made no more noise than a single steeply drawn-in breath that sounded vaguely, shamefully, like a sob.  
"And don't you _dare_  let me catch you using a dermal regenerator," he was saying. "If I find out you have, you'll be in bigger trouble than you already are. You're going to let that heal on it's own. Do you understand me?"  
Gaila nodded with a hand pressed against his face. He felt blood between his fingers.  
"That set of china's ruined now," said Hagath.  
"I'll have it replaced," he answered quickly.  
"And you're bleeding on the rug."  
"I'll have it cleaned."  
"The rug is _delicate_."  
"I'll have them both replaced."  
"Good. Now if you'll _excuse me_ , I have to go make other arrangements for dinner."  
Then he left.  
On the other side of the door, he heard Hagath walk down a short corridor, and then in a light, accomodating voice, apologize to the other three associates for making them wait. He heard affable laughter, and the sound of dinner plans changing.  
Where fear had been twisting up in his stomach, he now felt the cold weight of shame. The scream that he hadn't let escape had died in his throat and lay like a lump wedged between his heart and lungs, galling him.  
But he wasn't dead. That was something. Somehow, against all odds, he'd made Hagath angry and lived to tell about it. He'd been given another chance, and he was going to take it. After a few shaky breaths, he straightened up and snatched a cloth napkin from the table, then slunk away holding it to his face.  
He was all in. It wouldn't do him any good to dwell on all the opportunities he'd missed to back out of this arrangement, but that's what he spent the rest of the night doing anyway.


	2. Opportunity Missed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> flashback to the early 2330s. Quark has recently reached the Age of Ascension and left home; Gaila is a couple years older and has already been out on his own for a while.

The first place he went on his visit back home was to his aunt and uncle's house. He would be expected to check in with his father at some point, but that could wait. He had a debt to repay, and even if he didn't, there was nowhere else he missed as much as there.  
He walked purposefully down the street in a heavy rain, footsteps splashing nearer to the familiar little courtyard.  
When he reached the exterior hallway, he ducked in, hearing the light footsteps of his baby cousin before he had even made it to the door.  
Well, not a baby anymore; a gangling teenager.  
Rom was surprised, but glad to see him, and his face lit up with an oft-complimented smile.  
"Cousin Gaila! I didn't know you were coming," he said, stepping aside to let him in.  
"Hello, Cousin Rom. My transport arrived early, so I thought I'd take the extra time to drop in."  
He had laid a dripping carrying case down on the mat, and was toweling off as he reached into his breast pocket for a slip of latinum to drop in the deposit box by the door.  
"Gaila, you're family, you know you don't have to do that," said Rom, but Gaila dropped the slip in anyway. His cousin rolled his eyes, and sighed. "My house is my house," he recited flatly.  
"As are it's contents."  
"What's in the case? It looked kinda heavy."  
Gaila smiled.  
"You'll see," he said as his aunt and uncle appeared.  
"Gaila! Look at you!" said his aunt, crowding in for a moment to grab him by the back of the skull and lean her forehead to his. "What a handsome suit!"  
"Thanks, Aunt Ishka."  
She stepped back quickly, because her husband was already pulling Gaila into an embrace. He held him for a second before they even spoke.  
"Nephew! It's wonderful to see you," said his uncle, beaming at him. Gaila couldn't possibly have smiled any wider.  
"It's good to see you too," he said.  
"How long can you stay? Can your father spare you for dinner?"  
Gaila nodded.  
"Father probably won't even be out of his meeting by then," he said.  
Keldar's face suddenly fell.  
"He scheduled a business meeting the day his son comes home?"  
"I'm not surprised," said Ishka. "And you shouldn't be, either. You _know_  my brother. I bet your father wasn't even there to meet your transport, was he?"  
Gaila shook his head, feeling a little embarrassed. His cousin looked scandalized.  
"See? Gorad's such an ass."  
Keldar sighed.  
"Well... his loss is our gain. You stay with us as long as you want, okay? You can even stay the night, if you like. Quark's room is empty; I'm sure he wouldn't mind. We're glad to have you."  
"That's right," his aunt agreed, nodding firmly, "we are."  
He felt the smile returning to his face, and nodded again.  
"Thanks, Uncle."  
"What have you got in that case?" asked his aunt suddenly.  
Gaila lifted his chin.  
"I'll show you," he said, with a gold-pressed glint in his eye. Lifting it up, he walked over to the table in the center of the room, and set it down. His fingers paused on the latch: he turned to his uncle. "Remember that loan you insisted on giving me before I left? Well, I've come to pay it back."  
He unlatched the case, and threw back the lid, to reveal a small, but quite respectable, pile of latinum. His family was suitably impressed, and Gaila stood savoring it for a moment.  
"Wow," said his cousin.  
Keldar stepped forward. The surprise was fading away, and instead, he was practically glowing with pride.  
"You seem to be doing well for yourself," he said.  
"I am," said Gaila with a big grin.  
"I knew you would," said his uncle, clapping him on the shoulder.  
His aunt, meanwhile, had taken one look at the latinum, and noticed something amiss.  
"This is too much money," she pointed out. "There's more here than you owe."  
Keldar looked at his wife, inspected the latinum for a moment, and then turned to his nephew with wide eyes.  
"I never asked you for interest," he said.  
Gaila shrugged.  
"I assumed."  
It was a lie, and everyone in the room knew it, but even his aunt decided to spare him (though she did give him a long, piercing look).  
"It's the standard rate," he continued defensively. His uncle tilted his head and looked at him with kind eyes.  
"You didn't have to do that, nephew."  
"But you're going to accept it," said his aunt in a mildly warning tone.  
"Of course I am!" said his uncle with a hint of indignation. "Give me _some_  credit."  
Satisfied, his aunt turned toward the kitchen.  
"Rom, be a dear and help me prepare dinner, won't you?"  
"Yes, Moogie," said his cousin, following her dutifully out of the room.  
"While they're doing that," said Uncle Keldar, sitting him down, "why don't you and I catch up?"  
He spent the rest of the afternoon talking with his uncle, filling him in on the people he'd met and places he'd gone. He asked after his cousin Quark, and what had been going on back home. They went back and forth for a while, and Gaila hadn't realized he'd had so much to tell. His uncle had so many questions for him- and he was glad to answer most of them. He explained that, as of the moment, he was more or less a personal assistant to a man who collected invoices and handled legal matters for a large, successful merchant with important clients all over the quadrant, but that he was certain he was about to move up. He explained the details of his contract and salary. He gabbed about the strange, exotic alien females. He filled his uncle in on interplanetary men's fashion trends. Showed off his new boots, his new brooch, his new blazer.  
"So," his uncle asked, "are you happy?"  
An unexpected question, but typical of his uncle.  
"Sure," he said, with just the slightest hesitation.  
"Something bothering you, Gaila?"  
He shrugged.  
"Well... not really. It's nothing important."  
"Tell me anyway," his uncle prodded gently.  
Gaila pursed his lip for a moment, then spoke.  
"The man I work for occasionally reports to the head of the organization. I've only met him a few times. He's the kind of man you can tell is important before you find out anything else about him, you know? Calm, confident, professional. Smiles a lot. He seems really friendly, except I can tell my employer is scared of him. I mean, _scared_. I never thought much of it, because he's always nice to me. But the last time we met him, we had to wait while he talked to someone else in another room. I could hear part of what was going on. Whoever that other person was, he was _**furious**_ at him. And that other man sounded scared too. Way more frightened than I'd ever seen my employer. It sounded... really bad. It made me kind of nervous."  
His uncle listened carefully, paying close attention to Gaila's tone and body language. He looked concerned.  
"You know, if you're not comfortable, you _can_  leave. There's no Rule that says you should stay in a situation you don't like."  
"Well... Not exactly, -"  
"And even if there were," his uncle continued meaningfully, "there's more to life than the Rules of Acquisition."  
"But the profits are _really good!_ "  
"Profits can be high and still not be worth it."  
Gaila looked skeptical.  
"... If you say so, Uncle."  
"Listen," he said, putting his arm around Gaila's shoulders, "you don't have to rush into any decisions. There are unlimited opportunities out there for someone like you. You've got the lobes for business, and I'm not just saying that because I love you. Whatever you decide to do, you'll be good at it. Just... keep your options open."  
His mouth twitched.  
"I will."  
"And be careful. Promise me."  
"I promise."  
That evening, he ate a traditional, homey meal for the first time in years, whipped his cousin at several games of fizzbin, and relaxed while he listened to the rain.  
Late in the evening, his aunt escorted him to Quark's old room, carrying spare bed linens.  
"So nephew," she said quietly when they were alone, "you _assumed_  the standard interest rate applied."  
He stood there awkwardly with his hands at his sides while his aunt made up the bed and peered at him knowingly.  
"I..."  
"You wanted to do something nice for your uncle."  
He felt blood rushing to his lobes.  
"It-... So what?"  
His aunt just smiled.  
"So nothing. You're allowed. And it's very much appreciated!" She kissed his forehead. "Goodnight, dear."  
"Goodnight, Aunt Ishka."  
He lay down in Quark's bed, and felt a strange, bittersweet ache. Quark had complained a lot when they were growing up, going on about how Rom was their mother's favorite, or how they got teased because of her eccentricities, or some other thing... There was always something. He was never happy.  
He didn't know how good he had it.


	3. Bleeding

He lay in bed with his shoes on, with a wet, sticky napkin pressed to the slash across his nose. Eventually it stopped bleeding.  
The room was dark; he never bothered to turn on the lights. Without them, he got up and groped his way over to the comm panel. He sent out a message, with the screen turned off.  
"Hello, Gaila!" came the familiar cheerful voice.  
"Hello Uncle Keldar," he said.  
"Hang on a second, I'm sorry, I hear you but I don't see you-"  
"This comm is malfunctioning," he lied. "I'm going to have someone from maintenance look at it soon; I just wanted to hear your voice."  
"Well, it's always good to hear from you, nephew. How are you doing? Are you alright? You sound upset."  
"I'm fine, just tired. It's been a long day. How are you?"  
"I'm fantastic! Did you get the latest pictures of my grandson??"  
Gaila almost smiled.  
"I did. He has your eyes, Uncle."  
"He's such a sweet boy. Absolutely perfect in every way. You should hear him laugh! When are you coming for a visit?"  
"Soon, I promise."  
"Good! Great! I'll tell everyone to expect you. Don't keep us waiting too long!"  
"I won't. ... I miss you."  
"I miss you too," said his uncle, and he could hear how much he meant it. "It feels like ages since we've spoken last."  
It felt like ages because it had been. Guilt assailed him.  
"I have some time now."  
"Are you sure? You said you were tired; I don't want to keep you up."  
"I'd rather talk than sleep."  
"I'm glad you called, Gaila."  
"Me too."  
He stayed up half the night making conversation, until his uncle had heard his stomach growl. He'd slipped and said he would get breakfast soon, upon which his uncle had realized that, for him, it was the wee hours of the morning, and he'd neither slept nor ate.   
He called for room service after promising to eat something and then go to bed. While he waited, he thought about what excuse he'd make for the mark this cut would surely leave on his face, but gave up before he thought of anything. He had time.  
When his food arrived, he held it in his hands for a long moment, and burst out crying.


	4. Opportunity Lost

Gaila never did figure out an excuse to give his uncle. It turned out he didn't need to.  
He'd just returned from a short excursion back to Ferenginar to pick up the disk. When asked about his face, he'd answered that he didn't want to talk about it, and under the circumstances, nobody pressed him. He stayed as long as he could bear it, which hadn't been long, and then fled back to his work.   
Now he was at a large, busy space station, knocking back a drink as he waited for another one of Hagath's associates to meet him, unsure from moment to moment whether he felt complete numbness or suffocating anguish.   
The disk was in his hand, and he ran his thumb over the official seal.

**Keldar son of Letek**   
**Father of Quark and Rom**   
**Grandfather of Nog son of Rom**   
**Husband of Ishka daughter of Adred**   
**Disk no. 6 of 52**   
**Authenticated 2354 by the Ferengi Dismemberment Certification Board**

Nowhere on the label did it say, 'Uncle of Gaila son of Gorad.' Speaking of whom. At one point during his short visit, his father (who had always rather disliked Keldar and likely only bought a disk out of familial obligation to his bereaved sister) had expressed surprise that all 52 disks of Keldar had sold out, even at such a low going rate. That had been the first time since Gaila was a teenager that he'd hissed at his father.  
"What's that you've got?"  
Gaila looked up. He hadn't noticed the other man approach.   
"None of your business, Farrakk," he said, slipping the disk back into an interior pocket of his high-end tailcoat.  
Farrakk held up his hands as he took a seat.  
"Fine, nevermind. ... How have you been?" he asked, trying not to be obvious about the fact that he was staring at the flagrant scar emblazoned across Gaila's face. "We haven't seen each other for a while."  
There was a morbid fascination and a smugness to his words that he couldn't quite hide from the ear of a Ferengi, even if he'd been trying, and Gaila's expression darkened for a splitsecond before reverting to a customary look of annoyed boredom.  
"Let's not pretend we care about how the other's been," he said, finishing his drink and setting down the empty, sweating glass.   
"You're as charming as ever, Gaila."  
"I don't need to be charming," Gaila said, leaning forward. "I have the lobes for business."


	5. The Wrong Thing To Do

He stood with his feet firmly planted. It was time for another meeting with Hagath, and today he wasn't worried.  
At least, not on the surface... and the surface was as far as Gaila cared to go these days.  
"So! Gaila," said Hagath in a bright conversational tone as he strolled into the room, escorting a new female on his arm, "How did things go with the colonists on Varix IV?"  
His movements were relaxed yet graceful; he sat down and made himself comfortable then stared up at Gaila expectantly.  
"We sold thirty percent more rotary EM microcannons than projected; otherwise the numbers were all more or less what we expected."  
"Good, good. And the Unlren Militia?"  
"They've ordered forty thousand Series II Varon-F disruptors."  
"Excellent," he said appreciatively. "Now. I've heard from Farrakk that you took some... initiative?"  
Though nothing visibly, audibly, or otherwise easily quantifiable changed, the tension in the room crept up a bit. He lifted his chin up and squared his shoulders.  
"I did."  
"Care to tell me about it?"  
"Didn't Farrakk?"  
"I'd like to hear it from you."  
"... I've been in contact with the Shalgair."  
Hagath's brow knitted for a moment as he turned the name over in his mind, then fiixed a curious eye back upon Gaila.  
"The ones at war with the Manchovites?" Gaila nodded. "And?"  
"The man I spoke to bought fifty thousand phase riifles on the spot- same model we sold to the Manchovites- and said that once he got the go-ahead to spend more, would be back for another fifty thousand."  
Hagath was surprised, but whether the surprise was good or bad, Gaila couldn't yet tell. He stood, clasping his hands behind his back, and strolled up past him.  
"You decided to sell to both sides."  
"That's right."  
"That's a dangerous business."  
"I know."  
"How did you come to this decision?" he asked as he circled behind Gaila, who did not like being unable to see the expression on his face when his voice was so deliberately unreadable.  
"We crossed paths completely by chance. I overheard him talking, listened in for a while, and among other things, heard him say that he didn't know where the Manchovites were getting their supplies from, but that they needed to find a supplier of their own and fast, or the war would be over before it started. I saw an opportunity and I seized it."  
Hagath had appeared in his peripheral vision but he didn't look. He stared straight ahead and waited for him to come all the way around. When he did, they stood in silence. Hagath peered at him for long enough that Gaila began noticing a stomach ache had suddenly flared up.  
Finally, Hagath smiled, and he let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.  
"Nicely done."  
"Thank you."  
"I think this war is going to be very profitable for us."  
"My thoughts exactly."  
"I've got an appointment with my tailor later today; why don't you come along? It's high time you had a new suit."  
"I can't argue with that."  
"Splendid! It's on me."  
"You're very generous, Hagath."  
"I am, when the recipient deserves it. Meet me back here in two hours, hmm?"  
"I look forward to it."  
Gaila left. Two hours to kill.  
He used them making a quick stop to have the disk of his uncle locked away in a safe deposit box.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special thanks to Eri and Dylan
> 
> and if you've gotten this far, you may be interested in the fanmix that i made for Gaila. you can find it here:  
> https://moonmothmama.tumblr.com/post/177042824213/the-one-with-the-moon-didnt-you-hear-quarks  
> and directly on spotify here:  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/1229356305/playlist/0WuOp1EOyOcVmXAcIGQuzY?si=jPsazfaATtS5_nmvMJgLJg
> 
> thanks for reading folks!


End file.
